“Understandable. But what about the challenge deaths? Is she holding up after those?”
Shit. He knew this answer was not one his friend was going to like, so he hesitated for a second.
“There haven’t been any deaths,” he finally admitted.
Again, Graham paused. “What does that mean? If there were challenges…”
“She chose to end them without slaying her opponents. The first showed her his throat, and the other two she crippled. But she hasn’t killed anyone.”
There was a moment of silence.
Not the reverent kind, but the are-you-fucking-kidding-me kind.
“And you still think she has the potential to lead that pack?” Graham asked carefully.
“I think it’s possible. She’s strong enough. Two of those challenges came from grown men, and she defeated both of them, death or no. She’s also damned smart from what I can tell. True, she’s got a bit of a feminine notion of mercy, but I believe she would do what needed to be done if it came to that kind of situation.”
“She doesn’t believe an alpha challenge is that kind of situation?”
Logan felt the need to defend her, which was weird enough in itself, but coupled with the fact that his hackles were going up in response to his alpha, it crossed the line into surreal. “She did what she had to do, and she walked away from the challenges a clear winner. The last one was her closest childhood friend. Imagine how you would feel if you were faced with a choice to let me live or die. How easy would that death stroke be for you?”
“Whoa. We’re not talking about you and me, brother. We’re talking about Ethan Tate’s daughter. Aren’t we?”
Logan forced down his growl. “Yes. We are. And I think we need to give her the benefit of the doubt. The first Howl since Ethan’s death will be this weekend. Three days from now. The whole pack will be gathered, and according to Pack Law, any outstanding challenges will have to be answered then or held till the next Clans Moot.”
“Which is still three more years away. And it’s scheduled to be hosted in Silverback territory this time. So she and her clan will have to come here.” He was silent for a moment, and Logan could almost hear him thinking. “I won’t say I’m not concerned over what you’ve told me, but I trust your judgment. Stay through the Howl. If you think she’s capable of leading the pack after what you see then, I’ll accept your word and leave her in power until the next Clans Moot. Then I’ll take a look for myself and make a final decision.”
Oh, right. Honor would just love that little plan. That just meant that his own carefully thought-out plan would be to not tell Honor a word about it.
“Agreed.”
“Good. Now get back to work. I’m thinking about trying to give Missy a new baby for her birthday.”
Logan rolled his eyes at the shriek he heard just before the phone disconnected. He flipped the cell phone closed and shoved it into his pocket. Let Graham have fun with his little blond mate. Logan had a darker fish to fry.
Six
The meaty, spicy scent of chili hit Honor the minute she stepped into the meeting hall and clashed immediately with the sick knot of tension that had been twisting around in her stomach all afternoon. Only a mighty act of will—or perhaps sheer cursed stubbornness—kept her from spinning on her heel and racing to the nearest tree trunk to lose what little contents her stomach might have on offer. Damn her father, and damn Logan Hunter. Between the two of them, she hadn’t been able to go a day without nausea in close to a week.
As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.
Fortunately, all of the recent practice Honor had gotten in recently at keeping her thoughts and feelings (and recently consumed meals) to herself kicked in and reminded her to clench her teeth, take short, shallow breaths, and fake it with authority. With that plan in place, she managed to nod and exchange greetings with the gathered pack members as she made her way to the alpha’s dining table at the rear center of the huge room. In pride of place, the table sat apart from the long rows that stretched the length of the hall, allowing the alpha to see and be seen by every other Lupine in the room. Ethan Tate had graced its center chair like a modern, furry Genghis Khan surveying his Mongol hoards. To Honor, it held about as much appeal as an executioner’s electric chair. In her mind, she’d taken to calling it Sparky in a morbid attempt at humor. The way she saw it, the title fit—it was the ultimate hot seat.
Of course, that didn’t stop her from making her way steadily toward it, nor would it stop her from planting her ass in it and keeping it there while she shared the pack’s traditional communal Wednesday-night meal. Her father had designated it as the alpha’s seat, so as the new alpha, that was where Honor would sit. Everyone expected it of her.
She felt the eyes on her as she settled into the carved wooden chair and pretended to ignore them, which was easier said than done when you considered that more than two thirds of the pack tended to show up at these twice-weekly group meals. For as long as Honor could remember, the alpha had hosted the pack on Wednesday and Sunday nights in the enormous barnlike meeting hall with the attached industrial kitchen at the back. When she’d been a child, Honor’s Aunt Marie had been the head cook, whipping up mammoth pots of chili or stew, or roasting entire deer and cows on spits outside the back door. These days, Joey had taken over, of course. She was her mother’s daughter, after all, and feeding anyone who stood still long enough seemed to be her calling in life. That and reorganizing Honor’s T-shirts according to some system Honor had yet to figure out but seemed to always get wrong.
“Tonight is the last of the bison,” Joey said as she set a heaping bowl of fiery red chili and an open bottle of beer in front of her cousin. “Sunday we’ll turn three sheep into stew, but hopefully after the Howl there will be enough clear heads around here to bring down some deer and leave them whole enough to share. Everyone has been asking for venison.”
Wrenching her attention back to the present, Honor threw the other woman a smile. “Thanks, Joey. The way you roast it, I’m sure they have been. You let me know if you don’t get what you need, though. I’ll make sure we bring you a buck or two.”
Joey nodded, drying her hands on her apron, but making no move to head back to the kitchen. Feeling awkward, Honor reached for her spoon and stirred her chili. She really didn’t feel much like eating at the moment, but she didn’t want to insult her cousin. Usually, Joey was so busy at the big meals that she didn’t have time to stay around and chat.
“How have things been going with the beta from the city?” her cousin asked after a moment, and Honor reflected that the answer to that question had more to do with the death of her appetite than she would care to admit.
She lifted a spoonful of food to her lips and blew on it. As if she had the faintest intention of eating anything. “Fine.”
“He’s been asking a lot of questions. The girls mentioned it to me.” Joey nodded toward the kitchen doorway where half a dozen women bustled around finishing dishing out tonight’s dinner and cleaning up from its preparation. “Most of us haven’t been exactly sure what to tell him.”
“I’ve noticed that myself,” a deep voice drawled, and Honor had to exercise a considerable amount of strength not to plant her face in her bowl in a reckless attempt at drowning by chili. If she offed herself that way, at least it would take care of her inner wolf. Her approaching heat had the furry little slut panting and howling every time Logan Hunter got within ten feet of her.
“M-Mr. Hunter,” Joey stuttered, her color leaching away and returning just as quickly in a flash of bright red embarrassment. “I didn’t notice you come in.”
Logan smiled his charming smile. “I’m not surprised. There’s quite a crowd in here, but I’m pretty certain that can be explained by the amazing scents I’ve been smelling for the last couple of hours. Someone around here evidently knows their way around a kitchen.”
